


I Think I’m Dreaming

by WhisperOfWarmth



Category: Reylo - Fandom, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Angst and Feels, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Force Bond (Star Wars), I Ship It, Kylo Ren and Rey Are Not Related, Loneliness, Meant To Be, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Protective Kylo Ren, Rey Needs A Hug, Reylo - Freeform, Romantic Fluff, Short & Sweet, Soulmates, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-27 18:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14431947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperOfWarmth/pseuds/WhisperOfWarmth
Summary: A night of bad dreams leaves Rey seeking out comfort from an unlikely source.“Don’t make me feel any colderTime is like a clock in my heartTouch me touch was the key too much?I felt I lost you from the start.”— Time (Clock of the Heart) by Culture Club





	I Think I’m Dreaming

Rey woke up in a sweat, sitting bolt-upright in the dark. Her eyes darted around her small room fearfully, and she had to take several deep breaths, to calm herself. 

She got out of bed and went out the door, softly padding to the community refresher down the hall. She splashed cold water on her face, rinsing the damp sweat away with soap, until she felt more like herself again. She had brought her hairbrush in her pocket, and she quickly pulled it through the hectic snarls of her hair, making it smooth and manageable again.

She knew it was silly to do these things when she was just going to lay back down again, but she couldn’t help it. These little acts helped to ground her, to calm her, to keep her firmly in reality.

As soon as she walked out and went back to her room, though, the story was different. She accepted that she wouldn’t be able to sleep in the dark again tonight, and she felt some measure of shame as she turned on the small lamp by her bedside. She swung her legs up into her bunk and sat cross-legged, afraid to lay down again.

Desperately tired, she did the only thing she could think to do (which, in itself, was desperate): she focused all of her energy, and, calling out through the Force, she said over and over again, “Ben.”

This was ridiculous. She KNEW it ridiculous. The two hadn’t spoken to each other since Crait, and it wasn’t as though that encounter ended on the best of terms. She had cut him off, severing their connection, so she wasn’t quite sure if she was strong enough to undo that, now. And even if she could, would he answer her? She could only imagine that he was still angry at her, for not ...

“Rey?”

She opened her eyes, her heart pounding painfully in her chest.

It was him.

He was Maker knew how many lightyears apart from her, but their connection made it see as though they were in the same room. Wherever he was, it was obvious that it was nighttime there, too. He looked as though he was barely awake; his eyes were sleepy, his hair disheveled, and he had quickly pulled a robe on over his bare chest.

Not sure exactly what she should say, Rey opened her mouth, and the words “How are you?” came out.

He tilted his head, confused. “‘How AM I?’”, he repeated warily. “What are you ... how did you even ... “

“I’m sorry. I should have said that sooner, I should have contacted you sooner. I’m sorry for hurting you on the Supremacy, and on Crait. Honestly I don’t even know why I’m contacting you now except I had a bad dream and you were the first person that popped into my mind.”

Ben walked a bit closer to her, arms folded across his chest. 

“Is ... is this your way of telling me that you’re ready to accept my offer? To join me? Because, if so, I’ll come get you, myself, right now.”

“No. I just wanted to talk to you, Ben. I still care about you. How ... how is being Supreme Leader going for you, so far?”

Ben sighed heavily and sat down on the edge of his bunk, running a hand through his untamed hair. He yawned, and then said, “I think either I’m dreaming, or you’ve been drinking, Rey. I’m going to go ahead and g- -“

“No!”, Rey shouted. He jumped a little, visibly startled. “Don’t go, please don’t go, Ben! Please, stay with me, until I fall asleep at least. You never have to talk to me again if you don’t want to, but please, please, stay.”

Ben’s eyes widened. He had never heard Rey sound so upset before, and considering their history, that was saying a lot. He experimentally reached towards her, to see if they could touch again, the way they had held hands once before. His fingers brushed against the solid warmth of her cheek.

“How about you lay down, and I’ll lay with you?”, he suggested hopefully. “I’ll comfort you until you can fall asleep again. Okay?”

Rey couldn’t help but smile at that, although she did raise an eyebrow. “‘Comfort’ me? What exactly does that mean?”

Kylo rolled his eyes. “Exactly what it sounds like. My mother used to hold me when I had trouble sleeping, when I was a boy. Worked wonders.”

“Okay, But watch your hands, or I’m going to attempt the first Force-connection neutering. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Rey laid down, facing the wall, and Kylo scooted into her bunk behind her. He carefully brought both arms around her middle, being carefully not to squeeze too hard, or touch anywhere else.

“Is this okay?”

She nodded, glad that she was turned away, so that his ego couldn’t see how big her smile was. At the same time she was in awe, at how strong their connection was. Holding hands had been one thing, but this was something else. It amazed her, feeling his arms around her. The heat of his body. His tantalizing smell. She could even feel like soft, sweet breath, tickling her bare shoulder.

“If you ever tell anyone about this, for any reason, I’ll kill you.” At the same time she turned herself around in his arms so that she was facing him, tucking her head down into his broad chest.

Kylo chuckled, while gently tightening his arms around her slender waist.

“I understand. But, Rey, who exactly could I tell? It’s not as though I have friends, like you.”

Rey frowned. “That sounds so ... so _lonely_ , Ben.”

Kylo shrugged. He moved one hand cautiously to her hair, running his fingers through it. Her locks were as soft as the wings of a butterfly, and having his fingers in it was something he’d dreamt of, since the Supremacy. He had time to wonder (and not for the _first_ time, either) whether Rey fully realized the extent that HER presence had on HIM. But never mind all that; he was the one who was supposed to be comforting her, here, not the other way around.

“There are worse things,” he finally answered, in response to her observation. “So do you want to tell me about your dream?”

“If I did, you’d only laugh. You’d tell me that I need to move on, to ‘Let the past die’.” Here she paused and chuckled. “I may not be very smart, but I always learn my lessons the first time around.”

Kylo shook his head. “I won’t laugh. I promise.”

Taking a shuddering breath, Rey explained: “When I lived on Jakku there was this sand trap pit about halfway between my home, and the marketplace. If you weren’t careful, you’d be sucked right in, and nobody could save you. When I was 6, I watched an entire family of Jawas get pulled down in there, trying to save a baby that got pulled in. I know its stupid, but I dream about that still. Earlier I dreamt I was in the pit. I screamed and struggled but no one could hear me.”

Kylo was quiet as the horror of that picture sunk in for him. He hated sand himself, and the thought of being trapped by it, being suffocated in the darkness ...

“That’s not something to laugh at, Rey. That sounds awful. But you’re safe. You’re here, and you’re safe. Alright?”

She nodded. “I know. It’s funny, though, isn’t it? I feel so protected right now, with you holding me. And you’re my enemy. Life is cruelly hilarious, isn’t it?”

Before he could respond to that, she went on:

“I guess, deep down, what I really fear is being forgotten. Disappearing, and nobody coming to look for me. Not even knowing I was gone.”

“You know that’s not the case, right?”, he asked her softly. “If you were to disappear now, you’d have the entire Resistance out scouring every planet for you. I ... I would look for you, too. Just so you know.”

She remained quiet, and her silence burned into his chest like knives. He wished more than anything that he could go to her. That he could physically be where she was, holding her, kissing her. To talk, to listen.

To softly and emphatically reassure her that she was worth staying for, worth fighting for, worth **changing** for.

One of the very last things he had said, when they had in the same room together, was that she was nothing.

... nothing?  
NOTHING?

Dear Maker, she was EVERYTHING. All of the pureness, the goodness, the sweetness of life boiled down to a drop.

**Everything.**

He took a deep breath, because he was going to tell her all of this, and more. A conversation that started with “I’m in love with you, still. I always will be.”, that ended with “Marry me.” He was GOING TO ...

... but then he noticed that all of the tenseness had gone out of her muscles, and she was breathing softly and rhythmically against him.

He sighed.

When the sun rose, he would leave her, fading back into his own world like a phantom. He would retreat back into the cold loneliness he had created for himself, leaving _her_ to wake up alone. To deduce that their conversation, their contact, had simply been the musings of an overworked mind. A product of unrequited desire, hidden wishes.

Just a dream.

She would go about her day, strategizing with her new family ways to bring the heinous First Order to its knees. She would smile, and joke, and in the middle of envisioning attack her mind would slip and she would find herself thinking of Kylo’s fingers in her hair. She would think of the warmth of his skin, a warmth she could still feel from millions of light years away. She would briefly close her eyes and picture his lips pressing gently into her forehead, and she would give a little sigh, thinking of how, in her entire life, no matter how far away she ran from him, she knew she would never find the comfort in anyone else’s arms, that she found in his. That no one would ever make her feel as safe, as protected, as loved.

Just a dream.

She’d open her eyes, and someone, possibly Finn, possible General Organa, would ask her if she was okay. She’d smile, and give a small nod, as she explained that she was just thinking of a dream she had had, last night.

Just, a dream.


End file.
